


Relatively Speaking, You're Fine

by GreenRogue



Series: In All their Angsty Hurt [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Post-Season/Series 13 AU, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, absent mary winchester, brief mention of torture, no michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue
Summary: Everything was fine. Mom and Jack were home, the AU hunters were organized and feeling freer than ever, Dean was smiling again, and Cas was almost back to his old self with Gabriel’s help. Everything was fine—right?Mini AU, mostly no Michael, Gabe is alive but only briefly mentioned as a background character. It's Sam, Dean, and Mary in the bunker and my horrible, no good (so much angst) take on the worst scenario I could think of... today that is...
Series: In All their Angsty Hurt [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480616
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79





	Relatively Speaking, You're Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Ah my angsty friends, how I've missed you. I've got 11, count them, 11 plots going at once and I have a goal to have them ALL uploaded by the end of the month. We shall see if that happens :) I hope you enjoy this little tidbit of nonsense that has been floating around for awhile, as always kudos and comments are loved!
> 
> Of course, I do not own SPN or the characters, I just like to hurt them.

* * *

Everything was fine. Mom and Jack were home, the AU hunters were organized and feeling freer than ever, Dean was smiling again, and Cas was almost back to his old self with Gabriel’s help. Everything was fine—right?

“You’re fine—you’re fine—” Sam limped carefully into the dark bunker; his duffel hung limply from his shoulder as he gingerly held his bruised ribs. He shuffled slowly past Dean’s closed door, then his mothers. There was a faint blue glow shimmering from the open vent and Sam paused a second listening intently.

He could hear the faint sounds of some movie playing, Dean’s steady baritone a murmur of comfort in the pressing quiet. Sam heard Mary laugh lightly and he ducked his head before continuing his path towards his room. He hesitated another moment as he passed Cas and Jack’s quarters, the two angelic beings clearly not at home and Sam missed their presence profusely.

Carefully Sam nudged the door to his own room open and eased inside as quickly and quietly as possible. The breath he didn’t realize he was holding, released with an empathic whoosh when the lock clicked back into place and he was able to set down his duffel, his bruised ribs groaning in appreciation from the relief.

Slowly easing out of his jacket and toeing off his boots, Sam edged around his bed to glare at the far wall and the mess of taped reports and news articles left strewn there. He was going to have to take a break for a few days—get his ribs back in order before he could go out again. Sighing, Sam grabbed the big red marker from his desk and marked a giant red “X” over the latest hunt. A pair of werewolves were terrorizing a summer camp, too many kids—too many close calls--. Faintly Sam heard the chirping noise of his cell in his bag and shuffled like an old man away from the wall.

Easing off his flannel, Sam grabbed the bag and dug distractedly until he felt the cool glass and metal of the latest phone Gabriel insisted they all have.

_’You may be hunters but at least act like you live in the 21 st century!’_

Unbuttoning his pants, Sam stood and let them fall of their own accord while he thumbed through the few texts he’d received since being back near civilization.

**_Sam, some of us have set up base near Souix Falls. That Jodie lady showed us the land your Bobby had, nice digs. We’ll keep in touch when we need you_ **

**_Bobby_ **

**_Sam-a-lam! Cassie, Jack and I are going on a vacation for a bit. I tried to call but you must be busy. Stay out of trouble and see you in a few weeks._ **

**_Sexy Angelcakes_ **

****

**_Sammy, grab beer when you get back_ **

**_D_ **

****

Sam let the phone fall from his hand, and he rolled to lay down away from the door. His breath labored heavily in his chest, the remnants of the last pain killers he took were wearing off, but he just didn’t have the energy to hit up their infirmary. Dean’d figure out that he was already back eventually—it’d be fine—

You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.

His dreams were interspersed with flashed of lightening and blood. The sound of breaking bones and searing flesh a symphonic soundtrack to the daily tortures he’d grown accustomed to. His eyes were seared with the after images of his own heart laying on the ground feet from his body. Of his legs, flayed until the white shine of the bones glowed in the flickering fires. The clink of chains around his head sent fissures up and down his back while the growing icy cackles froze his breath in his lungs.

You’re fine—

Morning brought the same routine. Eyes popping open to an alarm he never bothered to change even though there were no more check out deadlines. Jaw slowly unclenching from holding in the whimpers of his night. He straightened out his spine, wheezing breath whistled past his teeth as he tried to sit up slowly; for a moment he’d actually forgotten about the damage to his side. He wrapped a tentative arm around his waist and stood slowly, inching is way from the warmth of his bed towards the promise of coffee and company.

He starts to smile briefly as his Mom’s and Dean’s voices filter towards him from the lit kitchen. Sam can hear the pan sizzling and hopes the coffee is already brewed. The smile feels tight on his face, muscles from lack of use grind under his skin. He hopes he looks better than he feels and musters up the social courage to greet his family when he stutters and stops in the hall.

“If we leave in the next 20 minutes we can be there by this evening. Simple salt and burn, get our feet back in the water. What’dya say Mom? You up for a road trip?”

“That sounds great Dean, it’d be nice to get back out there. Back to something familiar again.”

You’re fine, you’re fine—

* * *

_“Hey Mom?” Sam feels nervous, why should he feel nervous? He doesn’t know how to answer his own question but the fact remains, his skin is practically vibrating with the need to twitch as he waits patiently for Mary to turn away from her book and look at him. But she never does._

_“Yeah Sam?” Her eyes never leave the page she’s reading, head resting lightly in her upturned palm. He forces the hopeful quiver from his voice and tries to smile even though no one is watching._

_“I found a hunt. Not far, about 2 or 3 hours west of here. It looks like a salt and burn. Was wondering if you’d like to come with me and Dean? Maybe we could stop on the way back, take in some sights or—”_

_“Sorry Sweetie, I think it’d be best if I stay here for a bit, get my land legs back under me so to speak.” She looks at him briefly and gives him half a smile before returning to her book. Sam nods and chuckles a little before backing away._

_“Yeah, yeah o’course—whatever you need”. He’s already halfway out of the library by the time he hears a muffled “Thanks”._

_“Mom, it looks like there’s a vampire’s nest in Tucson, I could use your help—”_

_“Next time Sam, Dean wanted help cataloguing the spare parts in the garage and see if anything needs replacing”._

_“—I think a Rugaru—”_

_“Another time”._

_“I’m tracking a couple of werewolves by a summer camp, could use—”_

_“I’m not ready yet Sam, give me time”_

“I’ll leave Sammy a note, he came in so late he couldn’t get any beer, or he didn’t check his phone before he crashed.” Sam turns and heads back to his room before he hears the noncommittal response from his mother. It’s fine, she’s just ready now. It’s a big step after being stuck with Lucifer and Michael. It’s good, good that she’s trying to get back out there—

Sam glances at his phone as it lights up, a text from Dean and he refuses to acknowledge the sharp prickle behind his eyes.

**_Mom and I are heading out for a while. Found a case. Don’t wait up, and don’t drink my beer._ **

**_D_ **

****

You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine—fine—

The phone is shattered on the floor before the sound registers in his tired brain. The shaking in his limps threatens to topple him and Sam takes a deep breath, ignoring the strain it causes in his damaged side. It’s not fine, he’s not fine. He’s shrinking in a too small world while his heart beats harder out of his chest. Eyes burn with the after images of Dean dying, Cas dying, fire and hell, blood and sweat. Lucifer’s face appearing from the dark, owning him body and soul. No time to rest, no time to heal, gotta keep moving. If he’s not moving then he—he—

What is he without his hunts? What is he without the ready answer or steady hands to help his people, his family? The usefulness of his mind is slipping, his skills as a hunter always subpar next to his brother. He doesn’t hustle like Dean, doesn’t have stored knowledge like Mom. He’s strongly reminded of empty motel rooms and cold impala back seats. The glittering stars and passing cars the only companions for a ten-year-old waiting for his family to remember him. To see him.

Jagged, fractured air wheezes into his constricting lungs as he collapses onto his bed, head held gingerly in his hands. The Winchesters are together again, a unit of two well-oiled machines—plus their baggage. He’s already grabbed his still packed duffel before his mind catches up with him. He’s grabbed a random article from his wall, a random town with a random hunt. Stay busy, stay moving—time blinks behind his eye lids and before he knows it, he’s already on the highway heading in whatever direction his autopilot deemed appropriate. Spare burner phone in his shaking hand. He stares at the blank message screen while sitting at a stop sign. Stay busy—stay away— Steady fingers type a brief message, barely pauses as he squirrels the phone away into the darkness of the borrowed car.

****

**_Hunting, lost phone. I’ll come back when I’m done…bye Dean_ **

**_S_ **

****

Its the adolescent rebellion of running away, it’s the hopeful teen heading to Stanford, it’s the twenty-something hurting man hunting his father. The boy with the demon blood, monster, freak, abomination—his shadow is long, its reach like claws extending into the last vestiges of the dying sun as he drives away. Always away, always running—if he actually stops—

You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine--


End file.
